In the Wild: Logger's Paradise

A new descriptive series of adventures out in the mountains. This episode features my past weekend trail run and what it's like running with others after running alone for years.

GPS: 47.4869, -121.7097 | Mount Teneriffe | Snoqualmie Region > North Bend Area

Run: 8 Miles (12.8k) | 1,200ft Elevation Gain | Forest trail, rocky service road to paved roadway, logging roads, to old forest growth gravel roads

Boots: PUMA Deviate Nitro Elite Trail

Crew: Nick Greenfield, Jason Garcia, Ryan FitzPatrick (Me)

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Interactive Note: Before reading each section, hit the audio play to get immersive natural sounds curated with each section. If you finish the section before the audio concludes, pause the current audio before moving to the next section.

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And now, we venture into the wild…

I drive along winding roads, over rustic bridges above raging spring waters, and through dense forests as I pull into the Tenerife parking lot that sits at the base of the mountain. As of late, I’ve been finding myself spending more time in the North Bend area of Washington — the gateway to endless trail systems and adventure.

It’s a mild 50 degree day, with a light breeze fluttering in. The usual moody clouds are out to sulk, but they’ve held their tears for now. It’s been dry-ish the past few days, so the trail entrance looks dry and ready for my lugs to break into the earth.

I find my fellow compatriots in the parking lot, waiting on me — late as usual. They’re all outfitted and ready to go. I slide my belt on, loaded with a couple of nutrition gels and a soft flask concoction of strawberry lemonade electrolytes to fuel the send.

As boys do, we rap our knuckles together, engage our watches, and cross the threshold from real world into the mountainous unknown.

Forest Climb

Our feet take us from the parking lot asphalt, to soft dry dirt as we disappear into the forest. We’re in a world of our own now. Phones are of no concern. Work stress has left our bodies. The monotony of our day-to-day routines has escaped our minds, and we’re fully present with ourselves and the land.

Our trio moves upward and deeper into the lush green forest, comfortably sitting at the base of the mountains above. Birds singing their songs without a care in the world. It’s easy at first, the first few minutes usually are, but the heavy breathing comes quick. Not many out on the trail today, just the sounds of the lugs of our soles digging into the nature beneath our steps as we press through the gradual forest climb that wanders like a relaxed snake easing its way through a dense field.

This section takes us 400ft or so, slowly making our way to the crest of this first climb. I can hear the wind rattle through the forest branches above us, just a featherlight breeze dancing through the canopy. The sunlight sneaks a glance through as we hit the top and it’s a mile of downhill from here.

Descending Trail to Road Climb

It’s all down hill from here baby. You can hear the rhythms in our steps increase its cadence to a collective trot as our energy is restored and we quickly coast down the straight trail with a very mellow decline.

The trail is damp, and at times, an overflowing creek spills itself onto our path. I can feel the coolness of the droplets against my thighs as our feet hammer into the rocky trail beneath us, splashing the overflow in all directions. A few trail goers pass us, watching us flow with the vertical loss as if we’ve done this a thousand times. They don’t know that once we hit the road before us, it’s going to initiate the burn sequence yet again.

The metal gate before us is that sign that we’re ready to enter the next phase of our journey. Passing through the two foot gap, we leave the groomed trail and our shoes hit hard packed asphalt like a bunch of city slickers…only these city slickers are climbing. It’s uphill for a bit, so we take it nice and slow.

Our cadence decreases from our journey downhill, but it naturally finds its sync between the three of us as we snug the left side of the road and do our dance up the road before us. A few SUVs pass us by, friendly waves from their drivers with a look of pity — why would we be out here doing this to ourselves…for fun? It is Saturday after all. The mouth-breathing increases, the calves burn intensely, but we smile and we laugh.

The road seamlessly blends into a gravel trail like the mountain’s own estuary. We’re back on dirt, and our second climb is over. We round the corner and come to another metallic, rusted gate. Once we cross the threshold, we’ve entered a new kind of paradise.

Loggers Paradise

Flat and runnable. We round the corner and get hit with an expansive view into the valleys and forest flow beneath our climb. The world stretches as far as our eyes take us, making us feel small, yet grateful to be here in this moment.

The clouds drift above, not violently, but just as they are meant to. We run together, spanning the wide road as this logger’s paradise takes us through stumps and roots littered throughout. The road winds through the middle of this logged area, finding it’s most efficient way until the road meets a forest of untouched trees. We see the road wind it’s way into a steep climb across the way, knowing it’s where we must go. Our legs feel the incline start to go, but we adjust quickly. Our paces slow, our breathing increases, and we begin the burn to the top.

Loggers Climb

I don’t look back. I want to, but I want to be in this moment more. My head stares into the ground before me, watching every rock, every step as at times I feel like I can’t do this. The continual push is hard — especially when you aren’t used to climbing. But these friends are with me, so we push forward together. In it together.

Eventually the road makes a sharp right and the top is as clear as ever. We push it and greet the top with a deep breath and sighs of relief. The road is ready for our efficient flow again, ready to pick up the pace we just lost from the climb.

Flat Forest Frenzy

We push the pace down the road, not having to climb or descend much at all. It’s a frenzy of even terrain as the forest thickens and we’re reminded of the natural forest growth, untouched by man…yet. It’s a beautiful moment transitioning from the loggers valley, spread thin and rough with the removal of all the forest in sight to then find ourselves enveloped by the dense green forest around us. Man can take, but nature finds its way back. I feel responsible and protective. In this moment I want to keep these places wild. It’s what crosses my mind in this escape.

The Way Back

Ba-beep, ba-beep, ba-beep.

Our wristwatches ring out alerting us to the 4 mile mark like a sound of resolute trumpets declaring their victory. This, however, is not victory. It’s the midway point. We pause a moment, trickling a few swishes of water into our dry mouths before we begin the venture back from where we came.

The way back is identical, but it flows more so. It’s all flat to downhill which is great for our strides. We pick up the pace, laughing, smiling, joking, jesting and wishing we could be out here all day.

We revisit the logger’s climb, impressed with the grade as we descend with ease. The expanse logger’s paradise opens up to a world of industrialization, but there’s still beauty all around us. Valleys and forests stretch as far as our eyes can see. I see miles out to Rattlesnake Ridge and the lake below.

We journey back through the paved road, up the slight gravel road with water splashing us yet again. Eventually we find our cutoff back into the forest for one last mystical escape before the trees begin to part and the metallic glimmer of a mechanical sea of beasts signals our return to reality. We reach the parking lot with smiles on our faces.

Knuckles rap together, watches beep to close out the adventure, and we empty the contents of our soft flasks in our mouths. We part ways and begin to reminisce about the adventure we’d been on for the past hour as we go our separate ways. Reality hits, but adventure lasts in the mind and inspires us until we get to do it again.

Trail Friends Are The Best Kind of Friends

For close to two years, I never ran with anyone. Running alone was what made sense to me, because I didn’t have to be vulnerable. Running with others is a very vulnerable act. It’s like releasing your creative art or a new short story you’ve written for someone else to consume. Your flaws and imperfections are exposed. With running, my slow pace, less than ideal stride, lack of climbing-fitness and exhaustion gets seen before others around me.

Yet, it’s better.

I’m reminded that we were crafted for community. Whether you’re religious or not, from the beginning of time, humans were brought into community and intended to live in harmony with the land and with each other. In biblical times, there was community and gatherings constantly. We weren’t bred for isolation. Modern times and society can tell us we want this at times. In the case of Covid, literally forced into it. We adapt and find ourselves thinking we don’t need community at times. For me, why would I need to run with others.

However, once I found community in the running space, I can’t imagine looking back. My friends challenge me, take me to new places, share their knowledge and sometimes I share mine back. I’m biased, but I believe that there has to be some sort of scientific proof that the people you spend hours on the trail with will get to know you at an exponentially faster rate than others who don’t.

I’ve run with Nick for awhile, and we can talk about anything. We’ve experienced smooth runs and really bad ones, showing our weakest selves. For Jason, I’d just met him in the parking lot, and by the end it felt like we’d been friends for weeks.

Trail running has taught me a lot, and I’m grateful for the community I’ve had the opportunity to build. It’s scary and nerve wracking to take that leap to seeking community in this space. In the beginning, I truly believed I was too slow to run with others. What I’ve come to find, is trail runners run for the love of escaping and being out in the wild. Trail runners are an accepting collective of wildlings. They take you in at any pace and any fitness. So my biggest piece of advice, don’t worry about yourself. Take the leap and go into the mountains and make new friends — you’ll have the best time of your life.

Until next time, stay wild.

—Ryan from Into the Wild